AllFreeNovel
Share Us
‘Ms Calhoun, what can I do for you?’ he asked politely.
‘Hi, I was just wondering where Mr Khan is today?’ she asked before she lost her nerve.
‘Would you like me to give him a message?’ the PA asked, rather evasively, she thought. Had he been instructed not to tell her Karim’s whereabouts?
Damn.
‘No that’s fine, I have his number here, but I didn’t want to disturb him if he’s busy,’ she said. ‘Is he? Busy?’ she added, then felt like a fool. Of course Karim was busy, he was always busy, the man ran a multibillion-dollar business empire, single-handedly from what she could gather given the amount of time he spent out of the house or locked in his study.
She was just debating whether to hang up, when the PA replied.
‘We’re going to be at Hammonds Sale this afternoon in Kensington Palace Gardens, which kicks off at three, so I would suggest contacting Mr Khan before it starts as he will be bidding on the lots.’
She thanked the man and then hung up.
Her heartbeat accelerated into her throat, the familiar tangle of nerves jumping and jiggling in the pit of her belly joined by the definite spike of irritation.
Karim had gone to Hammonds Sale without her? If he was planning to buy any stock there, why hadn’t he taken her with him? She was the one who knew the horses Calhouns would need to buy, better than anyone.
She glanced at her watch.
A quarter to two. Instinct and the definite bubble of excitement drowned out the jangle of nerves and the prickle of irritation. She picked up the house phone and ordered one of the cars to be brought round to take her to the event.
She’d never had the chance to go to Hammonds Sale but she had always wanted to. They held it every year in the grounds of Kensington Palace. Everyone who was anyone in racing would be there and, while most of the big sales happened in private, occasionally there were some good horses up for auction. She’d forgotten it was today, probably because she’d forgotten what day it was entirely. But she had studied the catalogue herself months ago when it had been issued, as she did every year, imagining what it would be like if she had money to invest. She could give Karim her advice about the best prospects, and maybe… Maybe she’d get up the courage to ask him about Quinns. But more importantly, it was way past time she stopped sitting on her backside and waiting for Karim to give her something to do.
She rushed out of the study and up the stairs to her suite, to hunt through her wardrobe of new clothes and find something fancy enough to wear for the super-posh event.
As she stepped into the car half an hour later, her fingers trembled round the clutch purse she’d found in the wardrobe. Then the jumps and jiggles settled low in her abdomen and began to throb at the prospect of seeing Karim again.
She ignored them. Her excitement wasn’t about Karim, and her ludicrous over reaction to him, it was about this chance to prove to him that while she might be hopeless as a fake fiancée she could be a real asset when it came to buying bloodstock for Calhouns.
‘You drive a hard bargain, Khan. But one I think we will both benefit from immensely. Your knowledge of bloodstock is much better than I anticipated. More champagne?’
‘I’m good, thanks.’ Karim declined the offer of a top-up from Piers Devereaux—a racing legend who had established himself as the premier stud owner in England—and dismissed the condescending tone.
He had expected as much from doyens of the racing establishment such as Devereaux—which was precisely why he had spent several years doing his homework and waiting for the perfect purchase before making an assault on the higher echelons of the sport. The prestigious racehorse sale organised by Hammonds each year was a gala event. The auction itself was more of a social occasion than a business opportunity, because the real business was done as the movers and shakers chatted privately over vintage champagne and cordon bleu canapés. Karim had prepared carefully for this event, knowing he wanted to match Calhouns’ top stallion Aderyn with one of Devereaux’s mares. But as he listened to Devereaux, a question that had been tormenting him consistently for a week tormented him again. Given all his careful planning over the last few years to enter this arena, why the hell had he been so damn impulsive when choosing a fake fiancée? And why hadn’t he brought Orla with him to this event? When she knew so much about Calhouns stock?
‘I have heard your father has an amazing stock of thoroughbreds, but I never knew you were so interested in the Sport of Kings,’ Piers continued. ‘So what’s the story on Quinns?’ the older man asked bluntly. ‘Did you destroy them as penance for young Pat’s diabolical treatment of your new fiancée—and his former fiancée—as everyone believes?’
Karim clenched his teeth and held onto his temper, with an effort. Devereaux was the first person to have the audacity to actually ask the question. But he wasn’t the first to think it. Hammonds was buzzing with the latest gossip—he’d noted the questioning glances as soon as he’d arrived. But he’d be damned if he’d explain or deny his actions to these people. Taking over the Quinn farm had been a sound business move, once he’d discovered they were ripe for a takeover.
But even as he told himself that, he knew it wasn’t the whole truth.
Destroying Patrick Quinn’s standing in the community had been more than business. And he’d been trying to justify the impulse to himself ever since.
‘The Quinn land borders on Calhouns, and I intend to expand the operation considerably,’ he answered calmly, deciding not to deny he was the new owner. ‘Figure out my motives for yourself.’
Maybe his motives had more to do with Orla—and the sight of her being manhandled by that bastard—than they should. But he refused to regret the impulse. No woman deserved to be touched without her consent.
Devereaux chuckled, as Karim knew he would, because loyalty came a distant second to power and success in this community. ‘Touché, Khan. Now I’ve met you, it’s clear the rumours circulating about your hot-headedness are unfounded.’
Karim ignored the familiar prickle of unease at the comment. A week ago, Devereaux would have been correct. He’d never been a hothead, and certainly not over a woman, until he’d met Orla Calhoun. And he’d never had a problem controlling his impulses or his temper, but now he couldn’t seem to keep a handle on either of them. And he didn’t like it.
‘I’m looking forward to working with you and competing against you,’ Devereaux added. ‘With Calhoun stock and your own considerable expertise you could well become a force to be reckoned with in a few years. Such a shame Michael passed when he did. The man knew horses like no other, even if he had trouble passing a betting shop.’
Karim bristled at the latent sexism of the man’s assumptions. His in-depth conversations with Orla earlier in the week had proved to him conclusively she hadn’t lied about her influence at Calhouns in the last few years. Although the racing community were blissfully unaware of her talents, it wasn’t her father who had managed to steer Calhouns to so many successes despite the crippling debt the man’s addiction had landed her with.
Thoughts of Orla though awakened the familiar pulse of yearning. Infuriatingly.
